


Irresistible

by colorofmymind



Series: The Doctor Falls [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, F/M, Pre-Episode: s10e11 World Enough and Time, References to Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 02:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorofmymind/pseuds/colorofmymind
Summary: "You’ve been in an isolated environment since this started, whether it’s been here or the Vault. We’ll never truly know what progress you’ve made without...testing it. Elsewhere.”She sat up straighter in her chair, piqued with utter curiosity. “And how would you suggest we set about doing that?”“Nardole won’t be happy about this plan,” he muttered. “We’ll keep it simple. If you’ve changed, you’ll want to help people, not hurt them. You...can be me.”How the Doctor and Missy agreed on the plan that led to World Enough and Time.





	Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically canon-complaint and Can be read separate from the longer WIP series 10 AU I'm working on, but this will definitely help inform you guys if you decide to read that work as well (once it's posted lol). Mind that this is un-beated, not Brit-picked, and I wrote this instead of sleeping. Enjoy!

“Your Index File is terribly out of date,” Missy said before taking a sip from a cup of apricot-infused green tea, saucer perched delicately in one hand, the handle of the cup in the other. The Doctor busied himself with finding his own cup in the kitchen cabinets, and she knew that in amongst the clumsy shuffle of dishes he’d heard her. 

“You fixed it?” He asked nonchalantly as he poured the tea, seating himself across from her. She rolled her eyes as she set her cup in its place on the saucer and back on the table. Really, he was taking this arrangement for granted.

“The database programming behind it is lacking, so I’ll need a good few days to patch that up even with my skills. Of course, I’m here for another oh…,” she paused to look up at the ceiling, tongue clicking unnecessarily at the roof of her mouth. “930 years. Realistically, I should be able to solve a myriad of maintenance problems for you in that time. She might even be a functioning TARDIS by the end of it.”

Across from her, the Doctor frowned indignantly. Just as planned, she injured his ego. “She is a functional TARDIS. The old models are always better anyways,” he insisted.

“Oh are they? Would you call being stranded on Mars part of what a functional TARDIS does?”

The Doctor was at first silent to her rebuttal, but a small smile crept on his face. “She has her whims. Just like you.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“You two like each other. After all, when she left me and Bill on Mars she could’ve gone anywhere in the universe, but she came to you.”

Missy waved a hand dismissively. “She was just acting up.”

He persisted. “I think she knew you could help her. That’s part of what changed my mind about...you and the Vault. You haven’t taken advantage of her either—”

“In this body, you mean,” Missy was quick to clarify. “The Paradox Machine wasn’t too long ago, dear.” She didn’t know why she said that. She was sabotaging her own case, for freedom, for trust. For friendship. When she thought about it, she did that quite often.

The mention of her former self brought a shadow over his features, and in that moment he could not look at her. She began to consider the real possibility that he’d leave, just like last time. The very recent memory of  _ “I don’t know. That’s the trouble with hope. It’s hard to resist,” _ echoed in her mind.

The Doctor instead folded his fingers on the table, considering. His tea was untouched. “Yes, that does bring up a good point. You’ve been in an isolated environment since this started, whether it’s been here or the Vault. We’ll never truly know what progress you’ve made without...testing it. Elsewhere.”

She sat up straighter in her chair, piqued with utter curiosity. “And how would you suggest we set about doing that?”

“Nardole won’t be happy about this plan,” he muttered. “We’ll keep it simple. If you’ve changed, you’ll want to help people, not hurt them. You...can be me.”

“Be you?” She threw her head back in an incredulous, mocking laugh. This plan reeked of his typical arrogance, that modelling after his example would teach her goodness. “I’ve never heard you say anything more ridiculous.”

He carried on as if she’d given no protest. “Nardole, and Bill if I can convince her, will be there with you. Your companions. I’ll be monitoring everything from the TARDIS. I’ll pick the crisis.”

“Nat-ur-ally,” she sing-sang back at him. “So what will it be: an invasion to Earth in 2008, 2009, or 2010?” 

“We’ll be avoiding Earth and the 21st century altogether. You’ve never been particularly fond of either setting.”     

She hummed her assent.

“I want to help you, Missy. I know that I can.” His voice was soft and gentle with those words. There had been more instances of that, in the last 70 years, when the tension between them melted away and they could forget how they had hurt the other. Not forget, no that wasn’t the right word. They were much different Time Lords than they were in their Academy days. They could acknowledge what happened, accept it, and move on. She longed for those moments, longer than she had ever been in the Vault.

Still, Missy wouldn’t be who she was if she wasn’t needlessly destructive at her core.

“What if you can’t? What happens then?” She wondered, her voice not above a whisper. Fixing her gaze upon the tea in the cup, she refused to see his undoubtedly disappointed expression.  

The Doctor thought he could fix everything and everyone. Missy loved that he was like that. She hated that about him too. 

“I don’t know,” he said.

There was the familiar sensation of water gathering in her eyes, and she closed her eyes and drew in a purposeful breath, trying to fight back the tired, old physical impulse. She didn’t want to cry anymore. It made her feel weak and broken, like she could no longer control herself. To think she’d called herself the Master for hundreds of years. The Doctor saw her tears and thought of hope, for some ridiculous reason she could not understand.

The chair across from her scraped loudly against the floor, and Missy heard him stand. He was leaving. But when his footsteps tread towards not away from her, she blinked her eyes open in surprise. Just in time for her to catch a glimpse of those compassionate, blue eyes that stared into hers as he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips.

This was not the first kiss they shared. They had kissed each other twice in these bodies even, on the very same day. There was something special about the way the Doctor kissed her. He was always so tender, so...thoughtful. Kind. She’d seen how his love could be destructive, how he was willing to burn stars and worlds for the people he cared for, and she’d pushed him to that edge many times over other people. When it was just them, he gave his love without expecting anything in return. She’d made him that way through their encounters, the invasions, even with the intimacy. When she had kissed him, she demanded, forced her passion and desire into him, lusted and longed and reveled in the fact that he was her equal and yet she’d rendered him under her submission. She did not think she could kiss him like that anymore.

Before she could react, he lowered her hand, retreating out the kitchen door, almost as though he’d been burned. He regretted it, she knew.

The once still cup of apricot-green splashed with heavy rain from above. Shame, she didn’t have her umbrella.  __


End file.
